


Jealousy Is A Sin, But. . .

by Bfly1225



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, reverse omens - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Strong Language, a bit of history on reverse husbands, possessive Corviel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bfly1225/pseuds/Bfly1225
Summary: This vulgar demon, sultry in clothes and looks, who always seemed to be flirting, had something Corviel couldn't put his damned finger on. Something that had made the angel need to be near him. And for about two centuries, Corviel had transformed into a jealous man.AKACorviel is a possessive creature.





	Jealousy Is A Sin, But. . .

The love stories between an angel and a demon were not uncommon. A forbidden love, or lust, often both, made for a captivating story. 

The stories often went that a creature of sin would begin to covet this innocent and holy being of god, like many others before them. They would get greedy, become jealous as they wanted this good thing all to their own, trying to hide them from the world that may corrupt them, because only the demon could corrupt this holy being with sins of lust and pride, greed and deep envy. 

These stories often paint the angel as a humble creature of divinity, a blushing item to be guarded. Innocent. 

In this story, it is important to note that angels are vain creatures. They are possessed with the idea that they must dress and look beautiful. They are possessed by urges they don't understand, and they are intensely habitual. When their wings molt, they make nests and they keep their partner (a partner they stay with for, likely, their eternity) incredibly close through headaches and horrible tempers. They have seen and committed horrors in god's name with cold indifference. They are not innocent.

Demons are of the same stock as angels. Their wings- if their wings survived their fall- molted and they needed a partner. But they never made nests, and most of their partners stayed in heaven. Many were chased out by a partner of their own. It was a mercy that most simply forget their time in heaven. They are a similar kind of beast though entirely different.

Corviel can not remember a partner. He doesn't think he ever found one. He had been creating. He hadn't had much time for any of that- the meeting and the courting and the loving- as far as he could remember. He is now living on Earth, now best friends with, against every odd, a demon sent to make havoc to balance his own miracles and blessings. And even decade it seemed like the demon showed more skin, did more temptations. 

And Corviel had tried his hardest to be good, to stay away, to stick to what God's orders were. But he just. . . Couldn't. This vulgar demon, sultry in clothes and looks, who always seemed to be flirting, had something Corviel couldn't put his damned finger on. Something that had made the angel need to be near him. And for about two centuries, Corviel had transformed into a jealous man. It was gradual. It was still clandestine meetings and lunch looking over their shoulders with nervous glances up at the beginning, fear and the thrill of disobedience. In a nice-ish bar, not good enough to be something Zirpahon wouldn't have to explain and nowhere sinful enough that Corviel wouldn't be caught dead there. 

The alcohol had a way of making his mind say things that didn't make sense to him. It conjured images that he was ashamed of sober. It had a way or realizing that there was no good reason on god's green earth that Ziraphon should be showing that much skin in a place with men that might be interested. He could get scooped up and- well, maybe he was like that because he was doing a temptation. He shouldn't assume, after all. But still, he could see the stares that Zirahon was getting, and he hated it. Maybe it was the feeling of the stares bypassing him, or. . . well, maybe he hated that Ziraphon was being stared at. Instead of talking about it, though, of course, he just downed another drink and continued to chat with his demon. 

“Hey, baby.” Purred a man. He must’ve thought Ziraphon was a girl at the time, or he was just very bold. “You done chatting up your teacher here?” He gestured to Corviel, who gasped slightly. 

“What’s it to you, handsome?” Ziraphon asked, gesturing with his drink. 

“I figure you could get in my car and we can go to my place, something more fun?” The man asked, his tongue poking out from his lips. The man was a solid 6 out of ten, Corviel sized him up. Middle class. Probably underwhelming in bed. 

“Hmm, hard pass. You wouldn't know it, but the professor is good company. Once you get to know him.” Ziraphon bumped Corviel’s shoulder with his own but Corviel was glowering at the man as the intruder stepped closer. 

“Oh come on, he can’t be as fun as me. I can show you me ride, maybe you’ll change your mind?”

Corviel wrapped an arm around Ziraphon possessively. “I’m afraid they’re quite spoken for.” He smiled coldly, and he felt Ziraphon tense up underneath him as the intruder’s face turned angry. 

“Spoken for??”

“I believe that’s what I said, isn’t it?” Corviel responded coldly, his smile dropping. 

“Fucking misleading bitch, I can’t believe you’re out here-” The man began going off on Ziraphon. Ziraphon shrunk into Corviel, the yelling getting to him fast. He hated people yelling at him, and Corviel knew that he wilted under loud noises. 

The angel stood, straightening his tie and then his shirt, and tugged on his sleeves as the man, red-faced, silenced. “I don’t suggest pushing my patience or your luck much further, sir”

“Oh, what’re you going to do. Teach me to death? Christ.” The man snorted and rolled his eyes. Corviel let his eyes, golden and sharp, begin to glow with holy fire as the man continued. “That little lady-”

“You don’t get to put labels on them. What are your pronouns right now, Aziraphon?”

“I- what?”

“What are your damn pronouns?”

“. . . They them.” They responded grudgingly, still indulging in breathing to calm themself down. The yelling had really gotten to him, evidently. Not much could shake Ziraphon up other than abandonment and yelling. 

“Alright. They are wonderful and fluid and more full of life than you ever,” he stepped closer, “ever will be. You do not deserve them, not in bed, and not even to be near. Do you understand that? Well, of course you don’t, but I am a professor, so should I teach you a lesson while we’re here?” Corviel took another step closer, and was now a bit too close to the man. He seemed to grow, the hatred in his eyes thinly veiled as the man stepped back. “If someone isn’t interested, and says so, you back off, yes?” 

The man seemed to shy away from Corviel, the holy rage in his eyes inspiring fear. He might have given away his flaming sword, but an angry angel is not something one can stare in the face with courage. The man in question was, to his merit, very brave for the circumstance. 

“Now, shoo.” Corviel whispered, and the man left. Corviel sat back down, tension in his shoulders. 

“. . . That was. . . something.” 

“Oh, shut up.”


End file.
